


Arithmetic

by SomethingLikeSunshine



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt Harry, Jealous Louis, Jealousy, Louis in Denial, Louis is in fact straight, M/M, On the Road Again Tour, Reality, Recreational Drug Use, babygate, non-au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:05:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5024104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingLikeSunshine/pseuds/SomethingLikeSunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' sacrificed his heart and soul to be who he is today; so has Harry. But while he's regained some control over his life, Louis seems to be loosing more and more grasp on his with every passing day. Harry may or may not be the only one who can safe him but thing is, he needs a savior himself. Louis' not exactly making it easy for him.</p><p>Or the one where Louis is in fact straight (or at least he thinks he is) but still turns up at Harry's doorstep in the middle of the night ever so often. Harry's madly in love with him and lets him get away with murder (not literally). That's until Louis gets Briana pregnant but things never turn out the way you expect, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arithmetic

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. I was itching to write this story ever since the first announcement of babygate. It was supposed to be a one shot but turned out longer than expected, like always. It's supposed to be canon compliant, at the start at least (since we don't know the outcome of babygate yet). I tried my best to stay true to that and look up in which town they were at the time but there can be some minor deviations. Just ignore them. Also, things may be confusing at first but everything will work out eventually. Last but not least, a massive thank you to my muse and best friend Nes for always inspiring me. Now, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hotel Harry's staying at in this chapther is called 'Upper House' and this is what his suite looks like...  
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_"I've been staring at the sky tonight_   
_Marvelling and passing time_   
_Wondering what to do with daylight_   
_Until I can make you mine_   
_You are the one I want_   
_You are the one I want"_

**  
June 23th, 2015 - Upper House, Gothenburg, Sweden**

Harry lays sprawled out like a starfish on his bed in a hotel room in Sweden, he thinks. It's hard to keep track of where they are when the location changes daily, sometimes even hourly. The room is dark, the only light in the room comes from the city below on which he has a perfect view through the floor-to-ceiling windows across from the bed. The city lights are coloring the room in warm purples and pinks and Harry thinks it looks beautiful, almost magical.

He's still fully dressed with unused white sheets crumbled under his body and his phone pressed against his ear. He's lost track of time but he's sure it must be awfully early, probably around three in the morning which makes it around 6 in the evening in LA. Jeff has probably a whole lot of better things to do or dinner to attend from which Harry's keeping him at the moment and he shouldn't do that, he really shouldn't.

"I should probably hang up," Harry gives voice to his thoughts after a long period of neither of them saying anything.

"Are you tired now?" Jeff's voice comes loud and clear through the speaker and startles Harry out of the silence in his room.

"Not really," Harry shrugs, even though Jeff can't see. He doesn't miss Jeff's heavy sigh, though. It's not that he could do anything about it. He can't stop thinking. His head just won't give him the peace he'd need to fall asleep.

He's kind of used to it by now, chronic insomnia being part of the job somehow, even though he knows how little this particular sleepless nights have to do with jet lags. It's easier to blame it on that, though.

"Don't wanna keep you from dinner," he adds quietly, a wave of guilt rushing through his body. He's such a burden. He doesn't understand why Jeff's still keeping up with him. He's probably just feeling sorry for him. That must be it, Harry thinks.

"Harry," he drawls his name in that voice of his. Harry closes his eyes at that, face scrunched up in a pained expression, because he knows what the drawl in his voice usually indicates, what usually follows after it but when Jeff still hasn't continued after a few seconds, he lets out an encouraging hum. Better get it over with, right?

"Listen, I need to talk to you about something," Jeff continues more seriously and well, Harry expected as much, so he lets out another encouraging hum, even though he despises Jeff using that overprotective tone on him.

"I think you should meet new people, Harry." Pause. "Instead of wasting away in hotel rooms," he adds a lot quieter, sympathetically. Harry sighs. They've talked this over and over multiple times already.

"Jeff," he says empathetically, trying to prove his point. "I'm meeting new people every day."

"You know that's not what I mean, Harry." Another pause, as though he were contemplating what to say; or how to say it in the gentlest way possible. "Listen, I have this friend," he blurts out after a short pause and a few mumbled curses to himself. At the same time Harry's phone vibrates against his cheek, indicating an incoming text message.

"Hold on a moment," Harry interrupts him impolitely, mid-sentence, and pulls his phone out from where it's pressed between his cheek and one of the too many, too fluffy pillows on the bed.

It's Louis. Of course, it is. "U awake?" His message reads shortly and a wave of dulled anticipation shoots through Harry's body. He types a just as short reply before he presses his phone back against his ear.

"Harry?" Jeff's questioning voice comes through the speaker, loud and clear but even more protective. Although Harry hasn't thought that was even possible.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm back. Now, where were we? Your friend, right. What about him?" Harry rushes impatiently, now eager to end the conversation. Fuck, he feels so fucking guilty for being such a shitty friend when Jeff does nothing but care about him but he's just had way too many of this lectures already and not just from Jeff, that is.

"Xander. His name's Xander. He's a good guy and," Jeff pauses again, a trembling breath leaving his lips. "He wants to meet you, Harry. He's really nice."

"Jeff," Harry sighs exasperatedly. "We've already talked about this multiple times." Look, it's not that Harry wouldn't like to go on a date with a nice guy who also happened to be quite handsome (Jeff only ever picks the most handsome guys for him, as if that'd change something) but he's acknowledged to himself a while ago that he can't trick his heart. He's tried, he really has.

"He's not after your money, Harry. I told him-"

"Maybe he's not after my money but he won't attain happiness with me. We'd be separated for most months of the year and even when we were in the same country we'd still have to hide. At all costs even," Harry interrupts him more harshly than he had intended to but he's just so, so tired of this, of his friend's trying to hook him up with someone when they know that there's really only one person he wants. That his heart already belongs to someone. That it's someone who's never asked for it changes nothing, really. Harry still loves him all the same.

"I told him you don't date but he wouldn't listen," Jeff snaps harshly as soon as Harry's finished his little rant, finishing his own interrupted sentence and it's not that Harry wouldn't want to date but he simply can't. It doesn't work. No one measures up to Louis. No one. Not even nearly. He doesn't expect Jeff to understand, though. He knows he's fucked up, no pun intended. There was a time when he loved to meet new people but times change, people change. Right?

"Well, there's nothing he can do about it, innit? He can't force me to meet him," Harry spats out coldly, sending a chill down Jeff's spine despite the humid LA heat. He's not used to that cold tone in Harry's voice. Harry's always ever been warmth, his soul bright and colorful, one of a kind but this Harry is nothing like that anymore. He's heartbreakingly cold, his soul drained and lackluster and Jeff wants to kill whoever is liable for that damage. A certain name crosses his mind.

"I'm not worth the trouble anyway and if he's your friend you should have told him exactly that straightaway," Harry continues a lot quieter, vulnerable as he truly is.

"Of course you're worth it, Harry. Who ever told you you're not? Was it-" Two loud knocks on Harry's door stop Jeff's incipient tantrum. Harry jumps to his feet immediately, more thankful than ever for the interruption.

He runs his hands over the rumbled sheets in an attempt to straighten them out before he whisper-shouts a 'Coming. One minute.'  in the vague direction of the door. He's not sure if it was loud enough to be heard through the door but he certainly can't shout with all his might, given the actual time of day; or more precisely night.

"Jeff, I need to hang up," Harry says hurriedly, trying to efficiently end the conversation. He doesn't want to be impolite but Jeff won't stop arguing in a circle, Harry just knows it. He's been there before. Especially not now, when he knows what he's about to do; or with whom, that is.

"It's him, isn't it? You deserve so much better than him, Harry. Why do you refuse to see that?" There we go, Harry thinks. Jeff's voice has gone incredibly sad, a feeble attempt to open Harry's eyes to the truth.

"I need to hang up, Jeff. Now!" Harry hurried to his discarded bag on the floor and unzipped the front pocket, taking out a roll of Polo Sugar Free Mints and popping one in his mouth, even though he's brushed his teeth less than an hour ago. He throws the opened roll back in his bag and goes for the top drawer of the desk behind the bed, already carefully prepared and stocked up with needed supplies. It can't hurt to check again, though.

"Harry, you're gonna be in Cali in a few weeks. Please, just give Xander a chance and I'll leave you be," he literally begs Harry who sighs exaggeratedly. A sigh of defeat. He can't let Louis wait in front of his door any longer.

"Yeah, ok. One date. Only one. Happy now?" Harry snaps but his voice softens noticeably after a heavy breath out through his nose, his nostrils flaring visibly. "I'll talk to you soon, yeah? Love you. Give Glenne a kiss, please. I'm so sorry to hang up on you but," he pauses for a second, running his left hand through his hair nervously until his fingertips bump into his bun and get stuck there. "Yeah, you already know. Goodbye Jeff."

With that he hangs up and hurries to the door, turns the lock and literally yanks it open. His eyes land on a hunched over figure sitting on the floor opposite his room, back leaned against the wall and knees hugged tightly to its chest. Louis' head snaps up immediately when he finally hears the door unlock.

"I thought you wouldn't open the door at all. What the fuck did you do in there?" Louis mumbles tiredly, scrambling to his feet before running his hands down his chest to straighten the rumbled fabric of his maroon Adidas t-shirt. "Deffo took you long enough."

"I'm so sorry. I was on the phone with Jeff. You know how he gets sometimes. Wouldn't stop talking," Harry explains shyly, bowing his head when Louis passes him, stumbling in his room.

"Yeah, like a mother hen," he murmurs under his breath but Harry doesn't miss a word nor the jealous tone to them. Harry refuses to give it further thought, there's no place for false hope. Not anymore.

He closes and locks the door before he watches Louis wandering aimlessly through his room, stumbling over his own feet more times than not, before he eventually sits down at the foot of the bed. Someone's obviously had a little too much alcohol again, Harry thinks sadly.

"This room's fucking impressive. Makes me reconsider sleeping in the tour bus," Louis says in amazement, admiring the panoramic view onto the giant Ferris wheel in the distance and the city below for a while before he stifles a yawn.

"Were you out? You look tired," Harry asks curiously, even though the answer's quite obvious. He strides towards him with his mile-long legs until his socked feet bump into Louis' dirt-stained white Converse and looks down on his tousled caramel hair. He'd love to card his fingers through it right now but he knows he can't.

"Yeah, with Liam and the lads. You know, the usual." Another stifled yawn. "I'm not sure but I think it's fucking four in the morning and I just got back. Of course, I am tired," Louis snaps petulantly with his hands rubbing over his face, no real viciousness to it, before he looks up to meet Harry's eyes, a light blush creeping up on his cheeks. "Are you, uh. You know. Ready?"

Harry just nods, turning his head away, unable to lie in Louis' face. He's always been a bad liar, everyone knows that but fact is, he had no time preparing himself with Jeff on the phone and to be honest, he quite likes the stretch. The burn that reminds him of the events of the night the morning after when everything's gone back to normal. It prevents him from going insane when he's not sure anymore if it was all just in his head or if it really happened.

Louis nods once in aknowledgement, bringing his hands up to Harry's waist. He squeezes his love handles once before he traces his fingertips along the soft skin above the waistband of his tight jeans. Harry's eyes fall shut and his head lolls back just from the simple trace of Louis' fingertips on his sensitive skin. That's what this boy does to him. A low moan escapes his lips and rumbles through the silence of the room.

Louis stops when he reaches Harry's fly, waisting no time on the buttons. Just yanking them open and pulling the rough material down his long slender legs. Harry steps out of them as gracefully as a baby giraffe, toeing off his white tennis socks in the progress before he starts working on the buttons of his sheer button-up, breathing labored already.

Louis gets up too now and brushes his own denim jacket off his shoulders, letting it drop to the parquet floor with a thud, before he pulls his maroon t-shirt over his head to join the pile of clothes pooled around their feet. A cold shiver runs down Louis' spine when a wave of cold air hits his sensitive nipples. It gets replaced by Harry's body heat when he takes a step towards him, right into his intimate space, and looks down at him with concern written all over his face. Always so perceptive, Louis thinks. No doubt has he picked up on the shiver that run down Louis' spine.

He has to avert his gaze from Harry's gentle green eyes, can't take the tenderness in them that he doesn't deserve directed towards him. Harry should save it for someone who loves him; who's worth him. He starts fumbling with the zip of his own fly to stop his thoughts from wandering off to a dark place. Now's not the time.

"Are you cold?" Harry whispers softly, his warm minty breath hitting Louis' shoulder, causing goosebumps to erupt all over his golden skin. Harry has to restrain himself from wrapping his arms around him to warm him up but he knows he's not allowed to touch. One of Louis' rules in this unspoken agreement between them and he won't take the risk of losing Louis or the little he has of him.

"Nah, just tired," Louis fobs him off with a flimsy excuse. He turns his back on Harry and pushes his black skin-tight jeans down his legs, leaving himself in nothing but a pair of navy boxers. He kicks off his loosely tied Converse along with his socks and kneels on the edge of the bed, steadying himself on wobbly arms when a fresh wave of drowsiness floods his muscles. With the last of his strength he crawls to the middle of the bed and flops on his back with his limbs sprawled out like a starfish. He heaves a contented sigh and closes his eyes, his chest painted in pink and purple light spots from the city below. He's too beautiful for his own good, even after an entire night of clubbing and too much alcohol.

Harry gets on the bed, kneeling between Louis' spread legs with his hands clasped together in his lap. He's still wearing a pair of white boxers which do nothing to hide the outline of his hardening cock lying heavy against his left thigh.

"I could just blow you if you're too tired for anything else," Harry offers meekly, rubbing sweating palms up and down his thighs nervously. Louis hums indecisively, eyes still closed. "Or I could-" He trails off, fear creeping in his veins. He knows that he's entering shallow water, knows what a sensitive subject this is to broach but Louis is tired and this is not about him. It's about Louis and all he wants is to satisfy him, to be good enough to come back to for another time.

"I could do you today instead of you doing me. You could just stay as you are now and relax. I'd take care of you. Promise." There it is, out in the open, to late to take it back.

At least he has Louis' full attention now as his eyes snap open and he sits up immediately, darting an incredulous glance in Harry's direction. Gone is the drowsiness that had overcome him just mere minutes ago, his fierce eyes darkened several shades now.

"Are you insane? I'm not gay, Harry!" Louis says angrily, a tad too loud for the silence of the night, as he withdraws his legs from where they were caging Harry's. "How many times do I have to tell you that until you finally get it, huh?"

"Of course, you're not. I'm sorry," Harry answers ashamedly, studying his fingers in his lap. Anything so he doesn't have to look in Louis' disappointed eyes. Why can't he just keep his big mouth shut? Why does his brain-to-mouth filter quit its work every time he's in the mere vicinity of this boy?

After a long period of uneasy silence, he hears Louis shuffling on the bed in front of him and he half-expects him to get up, get dressed and leave without a word when he feels the mattress shift beside him. He still doesn't dare to look up, though. He hears a drawer open and close and then it's silent again, no shuffling nor shifting. Harry holds his breath so that the only breathing that's heard in the room is Louis'. So he's still there, hasn't made a run for it yet. Harry listens carefully how Louis' breathing slowly but noticeably slows down again until all anger is gone when he speaks again.

"Hands and knees," he orders decisively after another beat of breathless silence but his voice has gone significantly soft around the edges. Then Harry feels Louis' warmth behind him and it's all he needs - Louis' soothing voice and warmth - to do what he's told. He gets on his hands and knees and crawls to the middle of the bed, Louis' warmth following suit, ever present behind him.

Louis hooks his thumbs in the waistband of Harry's boxers and pulls them down slowly, over the swell of his ass until they pool around his knees. The wet slap of Harry's cock against his stomach and the way his balls hang heavy between his legs makes blood rush towards Louis' crotch and most people wouldn't have recognized the hitch in his breathing but Harry's capable of recognizing any abnormality in it and he doesn't even care how creepy that sounds, it's just how well he knows Louis.

Louis is half-hard already when he pushes his own boxers down and takes his cock in his dry hand. He tugs a few times, his eyes firmly focused on Harry's broad shoulders, the flex of his muscles when he impatiently shifts his weight from one arm to another. He doesn't allow himself more; not yet.

The next tug and the dry burn of it unleash a plethora of feelings in his body. Raw arousal shoots through his veins and outweighs all the other dark feelings that were about to crawl to the surface. Overwhelming lust and want burry pangs of guilt and self-hatred under its aftershocks because now is not the time for these. Nor is there ever the time for them. He's not that weak, no fucking way.

His eyes travel down Harry's spine and stop on his ass where his cheeks are slightly spread from the position he's in. He can't help the whimper that escapes his lips when Harry clenches around nothing. A bead of pre-cum bubbles out of his slit, wetting the tugs of his hand at his cock and making it fell so much better. He's so fucking desperate for a release.

With his free hand he searches for the bottle of lube he'd produced from Harry's well-stocked drawer mere minutes ago and squeezes some of it on his cock. He coats it thoroughly, against the popular saying less is more, before he wipes his hand on the sheets and discards the bottle somewhere within his reach for later.

He looks down to where he's fully hard now, his glistening cock curled up towards his stomach, before he allows his eyes to roam over Harry's waiting body once more. He can't resist the urge to crawl even closer to him, wedging his knees between Harry's legs to spread them further apart until his thick thighs press flush against the back of Harry's and his cock catches between his ass cheeks. The loud moan that falls from Harry's lips and the way his back arches sinfully should be illegal.

Louis slumps forward, drawn by the warmth radiating off of Harry's body, warming Louis' skin in all the places they're already touching. He catches himself on his hands, his chest colliding with Harry's back. He feels as though another slide of his cock between Harry's ass cheeks would be enough to push him over the edge already. It's embarrassing, really, but no one can blame him. He's been horny since forever. For ever, ok? He may tend to exaggerate a little but it sure enough has been a few days. His hook-ups with random girls in clubs don't count, they're keeping him entertained at best but they're never satisfying.

He's never truly understood the appeal of one night stands. Where's the allure of doing one of the most intimate things two human beings can do with a random girl you've just met? Maybe he's just wired differently than his friends or other men his age but it feels no more than unnatural to him to have sex with girls he doesn't even care about and won't ever see in the daylight. He does it anyway because it's normal and what's expected of him now that he's finally single again, right?

The involuntary twitch of Harry's muscles underneath him brings him back to reality. Louis feels his muscles strain under the unexpected impact of his body but thankfully he's strong enough to hold them both up, giving Louis all the time he needs to recover. The overwhelming desire that clouds Louis' senses is all too much and not enough at the same time, turning his muscles to jello, so much that he can't even hold himself up anymore. He rests his forehead on Harry's shoulder and takes a few deep breaths - in and out, in and out - until he regains control over his limbs again to lift his weight off of Harry's back.

When his body's hovering above Harry's, biceps bulging with the effort of it, he lifts his head just a little bit and drags his nose over his hot skin, tracing the curves of his shoulder blades until he reaches the nape of his neck. It doesn't have to mean anything, right? Harry still shivers with the gentleness of it, soft whines and pants falling from his lips.

A few stray curls tickle Louis' face and the next time he inhales it's the heady scent of Harry's sweet shampoo mixed with his salty sweat. He squeezes his eyes shut and thinks of that one time when he was nine and had found the age demented old lady next door sitting in their front yard in nothing but her underwear, saggy skin and wrinkles on full display, more than he'd ever wanted to see but it helps distracting him now.

After enough distraction he thinks of nothing but getting off again. That's why he came here in the first place, right? He digs his toes into the mattress to give himself better leverage and starts sliding his cock back and forth between Harry's ass cheeks, spreading lube where it will be needed very soon. Harry moans unabashedly and starts slightly rocking his hips back and forth in time with Louis' thrusts, their moans mingling in the semi-darkness of the room. The wet slide is intoxicating, rather teasing than actual friction, yet it's bitter sweet and it's driving Louis crazy.

He pushes himself off the mattress until he's no longer hovering above Harry but sitting on his haunches instead and reaches for the strip of condoms he'd discarded within his reach earlier. He tears one off the strip and rips open the golden foil wrapping in the process, the sharp smell of latex filling his nostrils instantly.

He grabs the base of his cock, pulling back his foreskin, before he places the condom on the tip of his cock, hissing at the sensation. He can't wait any longer. He needs it. Right about now. He bites his lower lip as he unrolls the condom over his cock and wastes no time lining it up with Harry's entrance, both boys inhaling sharply at the feeling.

"Ready?" Louis breathes between soft pants and Harry's low moan is answer enough for him. He studies the way Harry's huge hands grasp the sheets when he pushes his tip past the tight ring of muscles. The moan that falls from his own lips is animalistic but the way he sees his cock slowly disappearing in the tightness of Harry is too much for him to witness. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing this.

A pained groan interrupts their heavy breathing when Louis pushes another inch inside. Harry's muscles tense involuntarily as a sharp pain shoots through his lower body, his knuckles gone white with the way he's holding on to the sheets for dear life. Louis may not have the longest cock but what he hasn't gotten in length thickness certainly makes up for and it's been a few days since they've last done this. It's been in Brussels, he thinks. That makes it ten days.

Louis freezes, mustering every ounce of self-control he has to not push another inch into him but he keeps as still as he can, his whole body trembling with the effort of it. He listens to Harry taking a few deep breaths to try and ease the pain he's obviously in and Louis feels kind of helpless where he's kneeled behind him, being the source of it. He contemplates pulling out and calling it a day when he realizes that Harry's gotten a hand on himself for the first time tonight, quick tugs on his cock to take the edge off the pain.

Slowly but surely Louis feels Harry relax again, soft whines and moans echoing through the room. It doesn't take long until Harry pushes back on his cock experimentally, eliciting a low moan from Louis. Another pained groan leaves Harry's lips as Louis bottoms out and more frantic tugs on his cock almost throw him off balance.

Louis bends forward, slings one arm around Harry's waist, placing his flat hand on Harry's sternum to support both their weight with his other perched on the mattress. Then he starts pulling out and pushing back in agonizingly slow as not to hurt Harry any further but soon their quickened breathing turns into loud and shameless moans and Louis' thrusts get rougher by the minute. Harry's body is tingling all over with the feeling of Louis' body wrapped around his, holding him up and digging his fingernails into the flushed skin of his chest.

He neglects his cock as soon as his body's adjusted to Louis' thickness in the hope of prolonging the closeness between them as long as possible. Plus, he isn't too keen on embarrassing himself with coming too soon. He drops his head between his arms and studies the way Louis' skin contrasts against his own where his hand is placed over his heart and how his fingernails leave half-moon shaped marks on his chest. He couldn't care less. In fact, he loves having visible marks on his body that'll remind him of the realness of this.

He can feel Louis' warm breath against his neck and his shoulder and he wishes he could see him right now, watch his face contort with pure pleasure. He must be close, too. His rhythm falters and gets sloppier with each thrust. He has an unerring instinct for finding and hitting Harry's prostate with almost every thrust, though. It's a particular hard thrust that eventually pushes him over the edge first, thick ropes of white shooting all over the sheets.

Louis slows his thrusts but keeps fucking him through his orgasm. He listens to the unreal sounds Harry makes, the way his heart hammers against his ribcage under his hand, utterly astounded by the way he came completely untouched, apart from the few quick tugs to distract him from the intrusion in the beginning. How his whole body tenses, drawing him in even more and holding him in place, before his muscles give out and Louis holds him up once more.

Using the last of his strength, he pulls out one last time, pushes back in and stays buried - as deep as he can - inside of Harry. His mind goes blank and the feelings that shoot through his body are too intense to describe. His whole body spasms as he comes with a choked off scream, collapsing on top of Harry. He feels like he's glued to him, a layer of sweat between their bodies holding them together, holding him in place.

He allows himself to stay like this for a little while, his softened cock still inside of Harry, until his heart beat slows down to normal and he can feel his limbs again. Only then does he put weight on his arms again to lift himself off Harry's still twitching body. He grasps the base of his cock, careful to hold on to the condom as well, and pulls out. Harry winces underneath him as he slips out and his hole clenches around nothing. Louis' cock twitches in newfound interest at the sight but he decidedly ignores it when he removes the condom, ties it up and tosses it in the bin under the little wooden desk across from the bed.

Harry stays like Louis' left him, face down with his eyes squeezed shut, because he knows what comes next and he feels like he should protest, say something, anything to make Louis stay here in bed with him. He just wants to be held by him when he falls asleep and wake up looking into his beautiful blue eyes as the morning sun reflects in them. He isn't pathetic enough to attempt the impossible, though. Not anymore. Instead he listens to the rustle of clothes while Louis singles out which clothes are his and which aren't.

Once he's dressed again, Louis sneaks another peek at Harry. He lies where he's left him, with his back towards him, all curled up like a baby in its mother's womb. Louis knows he's not sleeping, can see it in the way his breathing is still fitful and accelerated, how his body's still coping with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He's shivering which is hardly surprising given the low temperature in the room. He's cold himself and he's already fully dressed again.

He crosses the room and squats down in front of Harry's unpacked suitcase, reaching for the first piece of clothing that isn't sheer. Not an easy task, as things turn out. Eventually he finds Harry's green Packers hoodie, though, and carefully throws it in the direction of the bed. One shot, one hit, right? It lands on Harry's hip but merely covers his butt. Certainly not enough to keep him warm.

"Harry, you're freezing," Louis states the obvious, breathing his words as though afraid to break the eerie silence in the room. The unexpected contact makes Harry flinch but he doesn't turn around to look at Louis or what he's thrown at him. "Put this on or you're gonna catch a cold, ok?"

The sun is already coming up on the horizon, ready to rise and favor the world with the first rays of dawn, but for now it's still relatively dark in the room. Yet Louis watches Harry for another moment, waits for him to reach for the hoodie and put it on or turn around and say goodbye, but he stays completely motionless. Louis could swear he's heard him gulp back a sob - not quite so smoothly - but then again, he's tired and only partly sober himself. His perceptivity might not be the best at the moment.

He sets out on his retreat but not before pushing a few buttons on the AC control panel, adjusting the room temperature to 23 degrees Celsius. He remembers having read somewhere that's the optimal room temperature. He throws a last glance at Harry and has no doubt now that he's struggling to hold back his tears and Louis desperately wants to say 'I'm sorry' - not just for tonight but for everything - but he knows it'd never be enough to right his wrongs. Instead he - ever so softly - says: "Guess I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Harry", and shuts the door behind himself.


End file.
